


The Prisoner's Dilemma

by ryfkah



Category: Dalemark Quartet - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, Politics, Pre-Canon, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryfkah/pseuds/ryfkah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Survival in Holand requires an adaptable strategy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prisoner's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dolabellae for Yuletide 2008

Navis had grown accustomed to looking out his study window and seeing the Northern prisoners being shuffled through the courtyard on their way to questioning. On that first day, with their distinctive yellowish hair soaked and flattened from the storm, they weren't easy to distinguish from the equally drenched guards surrounding them. As the days passed they grew more recognizable, and not only because of their bright hair. The increasingly beaten slump of their shoulders and hopeless hang of their heads set them apart even in Holand.

This time, Navis glanced out for only a moment before turning a blinking gaze back to his brother. "Of course, if my presence is requested," he said politely. "Though I can't think what use you'll have for me."

"Don't be a fool," said Harchad. "Of course no one's expecting you to contribute anything. Father wants us to look united in front of the other Earls. Try and make it seem as if you're paying attention for once, that's all anyone asks."

"I would hate to disappoint," murmured Navis, and opened his book again, a clear sign that he was ready to be rid of his fraternal visitor. "The trials will be held - when?"

"Tomorrow. Nine sharp." Harchad frowned. "There's to be no delays. Understood?"

"Perfectly. Thank you, Harchad," said Navis, his eyes already scanning the page in front of him.

Harchad scowled. He did not appreciate having a dismissal delivered by his younger brother. On the other hand, he had no more desire to stay and speak to Navis than Navis had to converse with him. He turned on his heel and left, letting the door shut loudly behind him.

As soon as it was closed, Navis walked over and relocked his door. This was a standard precaution in his father's house. Then he went back to his desk, but he left his book closed and looked out again at the yard. The prisoners had vanished into their cells; there was nothing to be seen except the ever-present Holand drizzle.

Satisfied, Navis sat down and pulled out the third drawer in his desk. He set his fingers on three knots in the wood behind it. The panel sprang out and opened up a second cabinet, which held several folded papers. Navis picked up the topmost paper and read through it, as he had nearly every day since acquiring it from a guard-turned-freedom-fighter who had decided that triple-cross was the most profitable game of all. Navis had paid the amount requested for the information, but right now he rather wished he had not; he was not sure he wanted to have to decide what to do about it. Carefully, he set it back into the drawer.

Navis was well aware that this trial of the Northern prisoners would have about as much in common with real justice as Hadd's display of dynastic unity had with genuine family affection. He was not looking forward to observing it. His general policy was to keep himself as distant as possible from unpleasant scenes about which he could do nothing. Still, if he was going to be trapped in a room with nearly all of South Dalemark's Earls for as many days as it took to sentence all the Northerners to death, he might at least learn something of advantage.

 

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Navis knew that he would make a far more effective tyrant than any of the other members of his family, if he were to put his mind to it.

Take, for example, this bungled matter of the ship from the North. The general character of Holand was irritable and short-tempered, and, more importantly, proud of its own irritability and lack of temper. Even when the citizens most hated Earl Hadd, they perversely admired his quarrelsomeness, and much as they grumbled under his rule, most of them would have hated still more being ruled by any other Earl. Given all this, the right words delivered at the right time could have had every self-respecting Holander declaiming furiously about the nerve of the Northmen who had dropped in on Holand's harbor as if they owned the place. For a few months, at least, the people would have been more concerned with patriotic indignation than with dreams of freedom, and any groups styling themselves after Northern independence would have had to lie low until the fervor died down.

Of course neither Hadd, Harl, nor Harchad had taken a moment to think about this, so instead the Holanders went around muttering each other about those poor Northern boys who hadn't done the least thing but catch a little hard luck. Navis suspected that this was not particularly helpful as far as forestalling revolution went.

But his brothers had not asked him for advice, and he felt no need to provide it when it was not wanted. His brothers, having spent many years in the schoolroom with him, could hardly help being aware that he was clever, but he could still do his best to dispel any idea that he might have good sense - or, worse, political astuteness. In Holand, taking an interest in politics was exactly the sort of thing that got one killed.

 

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They had brought a judge in from the city, a pinch-nosed man who was mostly known for his sharp judgments on matters dealing with fishing rights. The earls had briefed him completely on the decision he was to make in this case. Navis had a copy of the document sitting in the hidden cabinet behind the third drawer in his desk. He kept copies of all the correspondence coming in and out of the Palace that he could bribe the messengers to pass briefly to his desk - not all the palace messages, not by any means, but a significant proportion nonetheless.

(Navis' daughter Hildrida, who considered her father the laziest person she knew, would not have been surprised to hear how much knowledge Navis possessed and chose not to act on. It might, however, have startled her to learn how much effort he put into gaining it.)

Over the first two days of the trial the judge briefly examined and sentenced to death the nineteen unfortunate sailors who had sailed the Northern ship into Holand's harbor. Most of the earls dozed through this part. Nobody cared what happened to the sailors. Everyone was waiting to see the two noble prisoners, the sons of Hannart, who were being kept under lock and key in their cells in case Northern sympathizers attempted to stage a rescue.

On the third day a good many more people were paying attention.

"Konian Kerilsson," said the judge, "you have heard the evidence placed against you. On the charge of espionage and conspiracy against South Dalemark, how do you state your case?"

Konian Kerilsson was as pale as his Northern tan would allow, but he squared his shoulders and jutted his chin out high until Harchad reached out and smacked him out over the shoulders with a crop. The boy flinched and went hunched, wrapping his arms around himself. A hissing sound came from between his teeth.

"No insolence in the courtroom, boy!" snapped Hadd, and cut a warning glance at Harchad.

Konian jerked his chin back upwards resolutely. "You're just going to kill us anyways," he said. "I wish you'd have done with it without all this pretense at justice. We all know there's no justice to be found in the South." His voice wobbled as he said it. The show of bravado was not very convincing.

Harchad raised his crop again, with a certain anticipatory relish, and Harl muttered something in his ear. Harchad lowered his arm with visible reluctance. Navis kept his gaze fixed on his sheaf of notes concerning the evidence in the case. He could see the expressions of most of the Earls in his peripheral vision. A few looked relieved; more had clearly not paid the incident any attention at all. Earl Henda looked fiercely disappointed. Tholian of the South Dales had started smiling when Harchad hit the boy the first time and had not yet stopped.

Navis noted all of them. It briefly occurred to him to wonder how he would feel if the back that Harchad's crop came down on were Hildrida's one day, or Ynen's. Certainly his brothers could not be trusted with his children in the event of his demise. It was something to consider.

"I will take that as a plea of guilty, and so judge you." The judge wrote a note down on the paper in front of him. "Very well. In consideration of your rank, the assembled earls rather than I will pronounce your sentence -"

"To hang by the neck until he is dead," said Hadd, hardly waiting for the words to be out of the judge's mouth, and from the assembled earls came a murmur of agreement.

Konian had been expecting this moment. He kept his gaze straight, fixed on the judge. Navis was glad for the boy's sake that he could not see his own face. Konian had clearly been preparing to take the news with stoic dignity, but through his attempt at a fixed expression his terror shone clear through.

His younger brother, by contrast, looked as if he'd been hit over the head with something singularly unexpected. "We were here by _accident_ ," he said frantically, and Konian turned his head slightly to glare at him. The glare was easy enough to interpret. _Don't give them the satisfaction_ , it said, and went entirely ignored. "You can't proclaim us guilty for being unlucky! You can't - you must know we're not lying by now!"

"You seem very impatient to proceed to your own judgment, Kialan Kerilsson," said the judge, sounding more as if he were scolding a schoolboy than chastising a prisoner.

The boy Kialan swallowed, but belatedly did his best to copy his older brother's defiant posture. "It doesn't matter. It's to be the same as Konian's anyways. We came in the same boat and we have the same father and that's the only crime either of us ever committed -"

"Aside from espionage, conspiracy, and a singular lack of respect for this court of law," snapped the judge. "And if you're so eager to be removed from it, young man, then I heartily invite the earls to pass -"

"Pardon me," said Navis.

Several heads swiveled in his direction.

Navis was apparently entirely absorbed in shuffling through his notes on the evidence against the prisoners. He didn't look up, and his tone was bored as he said, "Er - I understand it's part of the required procedure of law to confirm the defendant's identity through name, age, place of birth and so on before passing judgment. This line of question has not yet been put to Kialan Kerilsson."

An irritated grumbling rose up from the seats. None of the Earls wanted to be sitting there any longer than they had to. Hadd stood up and craned his neck around Harchad to glower at his youngest son. "We all know who the boy is," he said. His voice was half throttled with the effort of controlling his famous temper. Navis had to admire his father's dedication to preserving the illusion of good family relations. "Holand isn't exactly swimming in Kialan Kerilssons!"

"Nonetheless," said the judge, rather stiffly, "Navis Haddsson is correct. It would be illegal to sentence him without observing the formalities."

Hadd muttered something darkly under his breath, but sat down again.

The judge adjusted his own papers. "Will the accused step forward?"

Kialan looked as if he'd rather they'd just sentenced him then and there, but he stumbled forward, chains clanking around his wrists and ankles.

"State your name," said the judge.

"Kialan Kerilsson," said Kialan Kerilsson, miserably.

"Your place of birth?"

"Hannart."

"Occupation?"

This was a clear insult. Earl's sons, of course, have no occupations. Kialan flushed right through as he said, "None."

"Age?"

"Fourteen."

The judge frowned and drew back a little, squinting at the boy, who fidgeted until he realized that with every move he made his chains clanked together.

"What's the delay?" demanded Hadd.

"My apologies, my lord," said the judge quickly, and ran Kialan through the rest of the questions. Kialan, who had been looking briefly hopeful, answered them all with a numb, lost air. Everyone could see it had just come home to him that whatever he said there was no way out.

"If the formalities have been observed to Navis Haddsson's satisfaction," said Tholian, "perhaps we might proceed?" It had been Tholian, Navis knew, who had swayed the earls towards deciding to kill the Earl of Hannart's sons rather than holding them as hostages. Tholian had hinted, with the utmost politeness, that allowing Hadd to retain the keeping of such a strong card would disrupt the delicate balance of power in the South. The only fair thing to do to maintain good relations among all the southern Earls was to take the card out of play, as it were. This made a certain kind of political sense. Navis did not believe that good political sense was why Tholian had done it.

The judge coughed. "Since the defendant has already proclaimed his level of guilt equivalent to that of his brother -"

Kialan looked up as if he was going to interrupt again, and then dropped his head.

"I hand his sentence over to the assembled Earls. I am, however, obliged to remind their lordships of Act Four, Statute Three of the criminal code, which decrees that no one may be put to death until he reaches his majority at the age of fifteen -"

"Eh?" said Hadd. "Ah, yes." He squinted down at young Kialan, who was still staring dully down at his hands and hardly seemed to have heard. "Damned inconvenience! If he hadn't spent all those years acting the revolutionary ass, Keril would have two grown sons by now instead of these milksop boys. Very well, I suppose we'll just have to hold him until -"

"Surely you're not serious," said Tholian. His mouth still bore the faint trace of a smile, but there was no sign of it in his flat blank eyes. "To allow the boy to escape on a technicality? Under the circumstances -"

"Under the circumstances in my earldom," said Hadd, snapping his head around to glare at Tholian. "I won't have it said that we don't follow the law here in Holand."

"The assembled earls have already agreed -" said Tholian, and the Earls' seating area erupted in discussion as everyone suddenly tried to put in their opinion at once. A few opinions varied, but Navis could hear most voices agreeing with Hadd. They all wanted to maintain the appearance of legitimacy, and the law was the law. Mild Earl Ganner was even suggesting that in the light of this revelation they ought to send the boy back to his father. He would be loudly shouted down, Navis knew, but so, it seemed, would Tholian.

Navis himself said nothing, but quietly drew a page over the sheaf in front of him that contained an account of the information gained from the initial questioning of Kialan Kerilsson.

 

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Hadd waited until well after the other Earls had returned to their quarters that evening to round on his youngest son. The choleric purple of his nose made it seem even larger than usual. "What in the name of Ammet's ass possessed you? If you'd just kept your mouth shut -"

"It might have come out anyways," said Harl, rather grudgingly, "and then we'd have looked the fools."

"That's beside the point. This isn't one of your books of law! Navis -"

Navis debated mentioning that Harchad had requested him to look as if he were paying attention, but only very briefly. "My apologies," he said instead, keeping his eyes down. It did not do to challenge Hadd directly; it created far more difficulties than it was worth.

"At least," Harchad said, "we'll have more time to get information out of the boy now. There must be more he can tell us about Hannart's plans and his men." Harchad did not look terribly displeased at the prospect of holding Kialan for another year.

"I doubt it," said Harl, briefly.

"I hope you can find some use for him so his feeding won't be a complete waste. The number of guards I'll have to use for the next months - Still," Hadd added, "at least that young puppy Tholian's been taken down a notch. Trying to tell me what laws I should follow! In my own Earldom!" The nose was growing purpler, and at this Navis knew Hadd's wrath had been safely diverted

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harchad and Harl take advantage of Hadd's distraction to glance at each other.

It was not particularly worthy of notice that two brothers should look at each other - which is what made it so stupid of them, Navis thought wearily, that they had waited until Hadd was not looking to do it.

 

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Later, rumor would report that Hadd had announced his decision to let his grandchildren attend Konian Kerilsson's execution by remarking, "They'll need to get used to the sight of Northmen dying." Of course Hadd never said any such thing, but had simply commented that the little bastards would likely sneak in to see it anyways - he always had at their age - and if they got a good fright it might stop them all eating Holand's coffers empty.

Navis did not think to do anything about this until Harl's wife Larinna invaded his study to ask if he was going to require Hildrida and Ynen to dress in black. "Out of respect for the boy and the occasion," she explained, frowning. "Northern revolutionary or not, he is after all an Earl's son, and it would be suitable -"

Navis had taken up a book as soon as he heard the knock on the door, and did not look up from it as he said, "As I intend to forbid Hildy and Ynen from attending the hanging, I'm afraid I won't be of much help."

Larinna stared at him. "Hadd gave his permission!"

"True," said Navis, "but Hildrida and Ynen are not Hadd's children, they are mine."

"That daughter of yours will fly into a rage again," Larinna warned.

"I expect so," agreed Navis, and turned a page.

Larinna paused for a moment to give him a look of sheer frustration that went apparently unnoticed before beginning again. "Forgive me, Navis, I know it's none of my business -"

"True," said Navis pleasantly.

"- but it's only," she pushed on, "that I'm startled to see you taking enough of an interest in your children to forbid them doing anything. In some respects I suppose I can't help but approve. You know I've always thought that if you took a stronger hand with those children, showed some _interest_ , then Hildrida might not have turned out so -"

At this, Navis did look up, and waited, with a patient and mildly curious expression, for Larinna to finish her sentence.

"So _challenging_ ," Larinna said, finally. "She's a very angry little girl, your Hildrida."

"Is she?" said Navis.

"Not a day goes by that Harilla doesn't come running to me with some story," Larinna said, but she could see it was no use. Navis' gaze had dropped again to his book.

"Er - Larinna, would you mind sending in Alham when you leave? I believe he's just outside the door."

Larinna stared at him for another moment and then stalked out, thinking that, whatever you might say about Harl - and there was a great deal you could say - at least he didn't have that horrible cold way of making you feel almost as though you didn't exist.

Navis, meanwhile, was thinking that it was in some ways a relief that Hildy was as angry as she was. True, the fact that she generally seemed to hate everyone and everything could cause difficulties at times. On the other hand, as long as her elder relatives fell into the circle of her dissatisfaction, there was a decent chance that she might avoid emulating their patterns of behavior.

Occasionally Navis wondered if he ought not after all to take more of a hand in things, but it always seemed so unlikely that any influence he might exert could improve Hildrida's development that he soon dropped the idea. He had not done a particularly spectacular job of molding his own character. Hildy was likely better off on her own. Ynen, being more biddable, was slightly more concerning. But Hildy would look out for him, and in any case he was still so young - he could hardly be expected to have formed a personality at all yet. If Ynen continued down his path of alarming docility, Navis concluded, he might someday have to interfere. But not yet.

It was generally simpler by far to remain in his study and let things play out as they would.

On the other hand, some things were worth interfering in. Tension in Dalemark was growing higher every day, and unpleasantness of some kind or other certainly lay ahead. Hildrida and Ynen would undoubtedly be caught up in it in some fashion or another, but in spite of this fact - or, perhaps, because of it - Navis thought it unnecessary to accustom his children to the sight of other children dying just at present.

Alham the messenger came in a moment later, and stood quietly while Navis instructed him to go to the nursery and inform Hildrida and Ynen that they were not to attend the hanging. "If you could make sure that there are no extremely valuable objects in their room at the moment," he added, "I would appreciate it." Alham grinned - he knew what this meant - and Navis said dryly, "Yes, exactly."

Still, as Alham left, Navis found himself suspecting that Hildrida might not kick up as great a fuss about this decree as she often did. She had been showing some rather surprising signs of maturity lately, and there was a small but important difference between being angry - as Hildy was - and bloodthirsty - which Navis rather hoped that she was not.

 

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Konian Kerilsson died at dawn the next day.

"Shame we can't just do the other now as well," Hadd remarked, as the body swung from the gallows, "instead of having the whole thing to do over again in seven months. Half the earls will want to come back just to see and it'll be the half I'd just as happily see damned, you watch! Not even mentioning the expense."

"Father," said Harchad, "you'd happily see all of us damned, and vice versa." Father and son laughed together in a moment that was nearly companionable. They both looked at Harl, who gave a thin-lipped smile, and then they all looked at Navis, but Navis was apparently absorbed in rereading over his trial notes and did not seem to have heard. This was so usual for Navis that nobody thought anything of it.

Nobody thought anything of it when he excused himself to return to his study shortly afterwards, either. Navis always had things he wanted to read. All the same, he made extra certain to lock his door before pulling out once more the topmost paper in the secret compartment in his desk.

On the paper was written, in the nearly unreadable handwriting of a frightened boy, _My brother and I are in Hadd's prisons and we must get out. I do not know if they plan to ransom us or kill us. Either seems likely and either would be catastrophic - not just for our sakes but for my father and, through him, for the best chance the people of the South have for freedom. Please help us escape._

This was followed by a detailed description of the cells in which they were being kept and the way in which they were guarded. The note was signed, of course, by Konian Kerilsson.

The easiest and safest thing to do would be nothing. And nine times out of ten, nothing was Navis' choice of what to do.

But tensions were rising, and tempests were brewing, and Navis was beginning to think that a time would soon come when doing nothing switched from the safest option to the most dangerous of all.

Navis pulled out another piece of paper - blank, this time - and set to copying the note. His own handwriting was swift and neat, nearly secretarial, and the finished note looked very little like Konian's nervous scrawl, but the words were the same. Then he turned it over and wrote on the back:

 _This is a copy of a note written by your son Konian and given to me by a traitor in the Porter's ranks before reaching its destination. You will have heard that Konian is dead. Please believe that I am truly sorry for this. However, it is my sincere hope that by the time you read this you will have been reunited with your younger son, Kialan. If you are, then you will know that his rescue is thanks to your older son's valiant efforts to convey the information to the Porter that would enable his escape, and to this note, which has by this time, I hope, made its way to its originally intended recipient._

 _I write to you in this way as one father to another. It is possible that I and my children might someday find ourselves in your power. In this event, I hope you will remember your own affection for your child and show kindness to mine._

 _Navis Haddsson_

He neatly folded the paper and sealed it, then sealed the other note as well, Konian's original.

Both would go on their way - one to the most effective underground movement in the South, and one to a fisherman that Navis knew often made the trip North to smuggle wine and apples. What would happen to them then was anyone's guess, but Navis thought it very likely that Kialan would be rescued sometime in the months he now had before his scheduled execution. The Porter's people were said to be effective and efficient.

It was dangerous to do anything now, and in a year, or two, it might be just as dangerous to have done nothing. For now, it was a balancing act. Tip the scales a little here, a little there; set the safeguards in place now that might save your life later. Saving other lives in the bargain was a bonus, and one that Navis was not entirely insensible to.

A knock came on Navis' door, and he swiftly slid both letters back into their cabinet before rising to unlock it. It would be a servant to inform him of the latest protests graffitied on the sides of the palace, or someone trying to sell him news of a plot, or perhaps Harchad come to talk into empty air about how satisfying the hanging had been that morning. To all of this information he would appear studiously indifferent, and regardless of what he learned, he would almost certainly choose to do nothing.

For now.


End file.
